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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932126">you lie, you lie, you lie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries'>buries</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>[challenge] kink bingo fills [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Vampire Diaries &amp; Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blow Jobs, Cowgirl Position, Dark, Dom Elena Gilbert, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s02e03 Bad Moon Rising, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Hate Sex, Human Elena Gilbert, Human/Vampire Relationship, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Play, Punishment, Riding, Rough Sex, Sadism, Season/Series 02, Stripping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:29:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s the truth," he says, taking a step forward. It’s instinctive she retreats by one step, throat constricting, fear thumping beneath her skin. He withdraws, hands pulled into his sides. He’s all soft and vulnerable skin now, but Elena’s seen the sharpness and bitterness ignite Damon like he’s a spitball of fire sent to torch the earth. She refuses to burn again.</p><p>—</p><p>Elena gives Damon one last chance to fight for their friendship. All he has to do is tell the truth.</p><p>[ 2x03 au | dark fic. ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>[challenge] kink bingo fills [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you lie, you lie, you lie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've had this one on my mind for a while. I used to be a Delena fan back when season 2 was airing, but I fell out of love with them for various reasons. This fic wasn’t born out of any dislike for the ship, but from my desire to explore the power imbalance and power play that I always liked, especially Elena's (unexplored) power over Damon. (Damon was right, though; Elena and Katherine have being manipulative in common. They just wield it differently, which is what this fic was born from.)</p><p>This is an au on the ending of 2x03: Bad Moon Rising. 2x03’s porch ending could have happened or it could be replaced by this. It's up to you. I always liked how Elena tried to manipulate Damon by waving the carrot of her friendship in front of him, so I wanted to amplify that and dig into Elena’s manipulative and cruel side and explore Damon not being the one with the upper-hand.</p><p>This was written for my partner in crime’s bingo. Trace gave me "mild humiliation with aftercare" and this is what I ended up with. Forewarning: there's really no aftercare in this. </p><p><b>content warnings</b>: I've tried to tag this as well as I can. This story isn't one I'd consider romantic, but I do consider it as a break up. It features dubious consent, power play, sadism, punishment, and humiliation. </p><p>Title is from FKA twigs "Video Girl". This is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is the first time she’s been inside of his bedroom.</p><p>Standing at the very edge by the door, Elena doesn’t toe off her converse like she’s at home. She’s not. Outside of this room, she feels comfortable. Inside of it, she feels like a lamb that’s willingly ventured her way into the slaughterhouse.</p><p>Inhaling deeply, her throat tightens and she keeps her gaze on the wall ahead. His room is sparse, large and empty, possibly like the cavern inside of his chest. But Elena knows that’s hardly kind; Damon has a big heart, but it beats differently to everyone else’s. Speeds up when it should slow down, thumps possessively as it encourages him to wrap his lithe hands around a thin neck and snap it like it’s a feather.</p><p>"Forever is a long time for a human, Elena," he says. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, his face is soft. Open, unguarded, blue eyes bright and eager. His doe eyes won’t work on her, not anymore. "You won’t hate me for that long. You can’t."</p><p>But she lets him the damn will break and she’ll come back to him like he’s air for her lungs. She’d come into his room willingly after declaring their friendship was over and staked it in the heart like a vampire who’s overstayed his welcome.</p><p>The house is quiet to her ears. She wonders if he can hear the way it creaks beneath the pounding of her heart. Her blood rushes through her as she reminds herself that Stefan not being here doesn’t mean she’s in danger. She’s the wolf, he’s the lamb.</p><p>Her silence unnerves him. Good. He fidgets, unable to hold the arrogant line of his back. His shoulders slump and the pompous upward turn of his lips sinks like it’s lined with tiny balls of lead.</p><p>"I want to make it up to you," he says. He stands by his bed, hands in front of him. She’s surprised he hasn’t tried to undress to woo her friendship back with the sharp planes of his chest. She’s surprised he hasn’t crossed the distance between them and grabbed her by the biceps, digging his nails into her as he shakes her. He stays away, a frightened lamb. </p><p>His voice cracks as he pleads quietly, "I want us to be okay."</p><p>Running her tongue angrily along the top of her teeth, she shrugs viciously. Keeping her gaze away from him, she only gifts him her profile and her hair falling in front of her face. Obscuring herself from the monster carves out the monster’s power.</p><p>"Maybe you should have thought of that before you killed my brother."</p><p>His intake of breath is sharp like she’s hit him in the gut. She wants to pummel her hands into his stomach, chest, face, but she knows that she won’t be able to break him. An immovable boulder won’t budge at the punch of an unstoppable force.</p><p>"Elena…" His voice cracks, worn down from the day’s adventures. Their day at Duke had been tiring for them both, from Katherine to Isobel to their fractured and broken friendship. She had bristled at the uncomfortable swelling in her gut at the sight of seeing him. Sharp, vicious pride had heated her belly and lungs at the sight of him finally feeling remorse. Despite how hungrily she had devoured his morsel attempts at penance, she feels a part of her—the part of her that believes in second, third, fifty chances—soften. She wants to be that person he can’t bear to look at without feeling something in his chest try to strangle him.</p><p>"Elena," he says again, firmly. She closes her eyes and recenters herself. Once she feels strong enough to, she turns her head and looks at him blankly. She eyes him blankly as he takes a step forward. </p><p>Turning to face him, converse flat against his clean floor, she crosses her arms defiantly against her chest. He wavers on his feet as if she’s shoved him back. Doesn’t even have to touch him with the strength of a gentle kiss of the wind to see him sway like his skin’s made of paper. She wonders how he’ll fold in on himself at a violent gust.</p><p>"You want to be my friend, right?"</p><p>Arching her brow, she regards him sharply. Eyes him for a twitch in his face or a curl of his fingers to prove his dishonesty. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t spy it. When Damon’s about to lose, Damon fights. It’s too late. </p><p>His eyes narrow slightly and he takes a moment before he nods. Thinks better—and smartly—about talking. She doesn’t want to hear him talk.</p><p>Sizing him up, she notes how he pulls his shoulders up. Tugs himself straight like a puppet waiting to be chosen. She wants to pull at his strings and make him move to her bidding. She eyes the way he grips the hem of his untucked shirt.</p><p>"Take off your clothes."</p><p>It sits between them heavily, a weighted demand that cuts through the tension that’s sparking between them. He’s bowled over by it, but she wonders if he’s really that surprised. If one stands on the beach in the middle of winter, surely they’d have to expect to be hit with an icy cold wave. She’s spent the entire day trying to whistle in his ear to deafen him, shone the sun blindingly in his bright blue eyes, and nothing has worked. He doesn’t know her if he thinks that she’d wear herself out and give up. Even when the ocean’s worn out from its vicious tantrums, it still crashes violently against the shore and snatches anything it can grip its hands on.</p><p>Lips curving upward in amusement, he shakes his head. "You’re not serious."</p><p>Arched brow cutting her face, she tucks her arms tightly against her chest to make her appear like a knife. She juts her hip out sharply. Hiding her hands within the crook of her elbows, she flexes her fingers and tries to summon the hurried beats of her heart into her fingertips. </p><p>Breathes in deeply, holds it, and tames that treacherous heart of hers. </p><p>"If you’re not serious about being my friend, I can go home, Damon."</p><p>"Okay," he says, quick. Brows lift up, freeing the suspicious tension from his face. The strings he had been tugging as the puppeteer slip quickly from his fingers. "Okay," he says, hands up in surrender. </p><p>"I want your belt," she says and refuses to blush. Her body feels hot beneath her skin, hellfire wanting to claw out of its cage. But her anger keeps her nervousness away. Only two men have stripped in front of her before, one a boy with fumbling fingers and one a man who knows how to touch her when she’s stuck in the eye of a volatile storm.</p><p>He arches his brow, parts his lips, and then presses them tightly together at the way her expression sharpens. She feels her brows dip down and her mouth twist into the same shape that sits inside of her chest, beating ugly and angrily inside of her.</p><p>She lets her lips part, teeth gritted tightly together as she watches him slowly drop his hands to his belt. Observes the way he unbuckles it with practiced motions. Wonders how many women and men he’s lassoed within its sharp teeth.</p><p>When he tugs his jeans off his hips, it’s in a slow, languid motion. Everything slides off Damon like thick droplets of smooth blood. He steps out of them and begins to undo the buttons of his shirt. Where her fingers itch to pick them apart on Stefan’s shirt, her arms feel dead weight against her chest.</p><p>Shifting on her feet, her inhales deeply through her nose and feels the air burn the back of her throat.</p><p>Damon drops his shirt onto the floor carelessly, a boneless carcass dismantled for his own pleasure. He stands before her, arms by his sides, chest and legs bare. Granting herself permission, she lets her gaze trail from his lips to his chin, the long line of his throat and the sharp planes of his chest. When he’s quiet like this, disarmed and at the mercy of a greater predator, he’s beautiful.</p><p>Her gaze lingers on his hips and the black briefs fitting snug across them. She swallows hard, hit with a surge of trepidation. Pushes it down, keeps her arms crossed nonchalantly against her chest.</p><p>"Is that how you always are?" she asks, looking at his crotch. She can see he’s hard. "Is this turning you on, Damon?"</p><p>Pale skin tinges pink and she delights in the way he seems to waver. Fingers curl into his palms, feet shift ever so subtly against the ground. If she hadn’t been watching him, she would’ve missed the way her huff and puff sways his steel house.</p><p>Cracking a mirthless smile, she shakes her head. "Of course it does," she says, lips twisting. She looks up at him, his blue gaze hungry and wide. "You get off on what you think you own, don’t you?"</p><p>"Elena—"</p><p>Her hand untucks from her elbow and she holds her palm up. It seems to slap him, her fingers stinging even though distance keeps them apart. It always keeps them apart; the chasm grows deeper, wider. "I didn’t say you could talk."</p><p>Pressing his lips together, she watches as his long, vulnerable neck moves as he swallows. She stays where she is by his closed door, her hands itching to touch him. Countless times, she’s imagined her nails streaking across his skin and tearing him apart, born from a lust to take back what he’s stolen from her.</p><p>Waiting for him to speak, he doesn’t. He means it then. She inhales deeply, feels it fill her chest, and the blade in her throat sharpens as she thinks of how to wield it.</p><p>She can still taste blood in her mouth, still feel his arm shackled tightly around her throat. His bedroom is darker than the woods had been, the candles of his room burning brighter than a witch’s spelled bonfire. How many times must she forgive him until she doesn’t taste the tangy richness of his blood in the back of her throat?</p><p>His crumpled clothes on the floor look like her boneless brother.</p><p>"You didn’t answer me," she says, arms coming to hang by her sides. "Is this turning you on?"</p><p>"Yes," he says, fingers curling into his palms. She thinks he looks shameful. When it comes to her, he always is, peering up at her like she’s the bright, full and giving moon that’ll guide him out of the darkness. "You—"</p><p>Lifting her hand, she waves it to quiet him. "You want my forgiveness, don’t you?"</p><p>He nods. "You know I do, El—"</p><p>"Then I think you should beg for it like your life depends on it." Her skin burns hotly with embarrassment and shame, but it scorches her from the inside out to see how his eyes narrow slightly. He remains where he is, bare feet trying to sink into the firm ground. Damon’s hardly stupid and inexperienced, but he’s been alone for his entire life. Rejected, told he’s not good enough. It hurts her to echo voices from his past, but she can’t excuse him anymore. He’s left bruises on her skin, welts that are taking weeks to heal. Her heart is still damaged beyond repair.</p><p>"Say something true, and I’ll take something off. Lie to me, and I’ll put it back on."</p><p>He inhales a small tug of air. His lips curve upward and brows furrow as he looks at her incredulously. "I never lied to you, Elena."</p><p>"First lie," she says, shaking her head. Lips purse sharply against her mouth, slicing into her cheeks with the sharp point of a knife. "You’re supposed to try, Damon."</p><p>Opening his mouth, he lets out a shaky breath. His chest heaves and she thinks his dick’s grown harder. Feeling the strings of power weave between her fingers, Elena wonders if this is what he feels when he spins people, her <i>friends</i>, within the web of his marionettes.</p><p>"Did you know Jeremy had his ring on when you killed him?" Her throat tightens, but Elena keeps her head tilted upward, chin a sharp point ready to cut him.</p><p>Damon’s gaze drops, unfocused and not on her. After a moment, he shakes his head. "No," he says quietly. A part of her feels betrayed by this truth with the realisation he’d been so willing to lie earlier. "No, I didn’t. And—"</p><p>"Sh," she spits sharply. Perhaps it’s not needed, his widening eyes glued on her as she begins to peel her jacket off her arms. She lets it drop to the floor and stands before him in her t-shirt, jeans and converse shoes. </p><p>"Next question," she says, and he seems to stand to attention. Her lips curve upward at the sight of him standing taller. "Did you think telling me you knew he had his ring on would make me forgive you? Yes or no, Damon. I don’t want to hear one of your stories."</p><p>He sighs pathetically. "I’m not going to tell you a story." Breath hitching at her hand gesturing for him to stop, he quietens beneath her spell. Licking his lips, she lets her gaze settle on the red colouring his collarbones. "Yes," he says, looking down at the floor. "Yes."</p><p>Tongue perched hard behind her bottom teeth, her jaw tightens and she nods. "Okay," she says. He lifts his gaze and watches her unblinkingly as she bends down and undoes her converse. She keeps her gaze on him, seeing the way he sways on the spot, captured in a bear trap.</p><p>Peeling one of her shoes off, the other follows suit and they lie together before her like a clump of bones.</p><p>"Next question," she says, breathing out hard. "You can give me an actual answer this time. Why were you drunk that night?"</p><p>Damon ducks his head, head hanging heavily with shame. He wears it like it’s the world on his back, his crime for all his treacherous deeds. Elena knows intimately that the world he pretends is on the back of his neck actually sits on another set of shoulders, a rose tattoo forever frozen in its attempt to bloom beneath the weight. He’s not the bearer of that punishment, no matter how much he tries to believe it.</p><p>"Katherine pissed me off," he says, voice sharp. Swallows hard. "She just… pissed me off being back."</p><p>When he looks at her, she keeps her arms hanging uselessly by her sides, fingers brushing teasingly against the hem of her shirt. She doesn’t tuck them into the fabric, knowing the mere press of her fingers is enough to draw his attention to what he wants gone away.</p><p>"So you came to my room drunk and tried to force yourself on me because she pissed you off." His gaze lifts up to her, almost hopeful she’ll understand. It’s another lie. Bold-faced, covered in blood. It decays between them, and she hates him for it. </p><p>Scoffing, she shakes her head. Firmly, she spits, "Lie."</p><p>"It’s the <i>truth</i>," he says, taking a step forward. It’s instinctive she retreats by one step, throat constricting, fear thumping beneath her skin. He withdraws, hands pulled into his sides. He’s all soft and vulnerable skin now, but Elena’s seen the sharpness and bitterness ignite Damon like he’s a spitball of fire sent to torch the earth. She refuses to burn again.</p><p>"It’s the truth," he says, breathing hard. "She pissed me off. She…" Hand reaching up to his mouth, he presses it against his lips hard. "She rejected me. She doesn’t want me." His voice is muffled and faraway, almost like he’s afraid of hearing it.</p><p>Elena looks at him, making a noise in the back of her throat. "Why would she?" She peers at him hard, feeling uncertainty grip her heart. She brushes it away. "You destroy everything you touch, Damon. This <i>friendship</i>."</p><p>He looks at her, expression fallen. His gaze lifts up to her and his eyes widen as she pulls her shirt up and over her head, ruffling her hair. Dropping it onto the ground, she stands before him in a deep red lacy bra. She doesn’t feel the impulsive desire to tug her hair over her chest to cover the swells of her breasts that he eyes, gaze greedy to consume what isn’t his.</p><p>"Do you want to do this, Elena?"</p><p>A stupid question. He has to smell how aroused she is.</p><p>"You’re not the one asking questions, Damon," she says sharply. "You want to be my friend, don’t you?"</p><p>He swallows hard and nods. "Yes," he says, gaze on her face. His blue eyes bore into hers as if he can burrow deep inside of her and rest within the safety of her chest. Elena doesn’t let him.</p><p>Without looking away from him, she begins to unbutton her jeans, pulls the zip down noisily. She tugs them down her hips, only dropping her gaze when she tugs the fabric to her knees. Stepping out of them, she stands in matching deep red panties.</p><p>He stares at her openly like he’s never seen her body before. She supposes he hasn’t. She doesn’t stand in the same way as she imagines her ascendent. Katherine is powerful, sharp and reborn over and over. Elena knows she’s softer, skin supple, stance easily swayed by a powerful slap. </p><p>But she wants to stand tall. She’s stared death in the face and bid it back. She’s stood in front of the tall, monstrous creature of grief and refused to let it swallow her whole. She can stand before a destructive vampire in her bra and panties and not once shiver at the way he drinks her in, his gaze taking in the slope of her shoulders, the line of her torso, the shy way she uncomfortably holds her hips. She keeps her socked feet flat on the ground for power.</p><p>"Get on the bed," she says. </p><p>Transfixed for a moment, he doesn’t move. When Damon does, he takes a few powerful strides to his big bed and crawls onto the very centre, rumpling the sheets. </p><p>Crossing the distance between the bedroom door and bed, she stands at the side of it, biting her bottom lip as she peers at the soft sheets. She’s only ever seen the bedroom of two men before—a boy who seems lost without her for him to consume, sucking the life out of her one sip at a time with the tragedies of his life, and a man who wants to relearn how to live. Her cheeks flush.</p><p>"I don’t think you want to be friends," she says, looking at him. His lips part, eyes wide, pleading before his mouth can so much as let any sounds out. "I think you want to fuck me."</p><p>"Elena—"</p><p>"Move up," she says, sweeping her hand to gesture he slither towards his pillows. Remaining where he is, resting on his elbow as he peers up at her, he regards her like he’s waiting for her to wake up. But she’s been awake for a while now, eyes open, gaze taking in the death stricken world around her. She can’t allow herself to be consumed by her human vulnerabilities anymore.</p><p>"Up."</p><p>He shuffles, pulls his pillows away and sits up near the headboard. Never listens properly.</p><p>Knees kissing the bed, she kneels on the land he claims. The sheets are soft beneath her legs, gentle in their touch. She eyes him, makes a point at looking at his dick straining through his briefs. Something possessive and ugly burns her chest as she eyes the bulge go his cock.</p><p>"Do you want me?"</p><p>"Yes." He doesn’t hesitate, eyes glued to her. She’s the sun and he’s her defenceless vampire, and she intends to burn him to a crisp. "I want you, Elena."</p><p>"How?" she asks.</p><p>His brows furrow. "How?"</p><p>"Tell me how you’ve imagined me," she says. Brushing her fingers against the sheets, she surveys her canvas. Picks up her paintbrush and begins to sweep her strokes across the surface. His gaze follows her fingers. "On my knees before you? Beneath you? In front of you? Do you even imagine looking at my face?"</p><p>"Of course I do," he says, brows furrowing like she’s slapped him.</p><p>"What do I look like?" she asks, tilting her head to the side as she peers at him. "Do I look like I hate you?"</p><p>He shakes his head. "No," he says quietly.</p><p>"Then what?"</p><p>Caging his words between his teeth, he shakes his head. "I want to be your friend, Elena."</p><p>"Then be honest with me and tell me how you always imagined fucking me."</p><p>Gripping the sheets between his fingers tightly, he looks away from her for a moment. She wonders how many times he’s imagined her in his room, if he’s seen her on his floor, on his bed. She wants to pour into the book of him, read every word that he’s ever dreamed of. She wants to see how he sees her, and read between the lines of the text to understand why he would hurt her.</p><p>"If I have to be up here by the pillows," he says, words slow, voice sounding calculative. "Then…" She smiles as his cheeks tinge pink. "You between my legs." His chest seems to redden a little.</p><p>"Okay," she says flippantly. Crawling over towards him, she pulls his legs open like a treasure chest and slips between them on her knees. His legs cradle her; she doesn’t feel safely confined between them. "I’m between your legs."</p><p>Letting out a gust of breath, he shakes his head, elbows digging into his array of pillows. His lips curve upward, throat tight as he breathes in. He seems amused, or maybe taken aback.</p><p>"Tell me," she says, staring at him. He seems smaller before her now, his brutal hands soft and pleading for something human and soft and encouraging to grip onto. Damon’s never had to fight for anything in his life, always thieving it, taking what isn’t his and twisting it until it believes it wants him.</p><p>He has something to lose now. </p><p>"You were sucking me off."</p><p>Her face and chest burn. Elena looks down the line of his chest and then his briefs. Her chest tightens, cunt growing wet. She doesn’t want him in the same he wants her, but being wanted so openly feels powerful.</p><p>Adrenaline surges through her like a storm, pushing her hands forward in the tide. Gripping his briefs, she tugs them down like an anchor diving to the sandy bed. </p><p>"El—"</p><p>Pulling his briefs down to sit beneath his pelvis, she eyes his hard cock. Reaches out and grips him, causing him to shudder. He’s warm and grows hotter as she slides her hand from his base to his tip and back again. All she can think is that he feels different to Stefan. A different weight, a different texture. He’s not hers to hold, no matter how much he wants her to be.</p><p>"Did I do this?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Hm." She plays with his cock, slowly moving her hand up the length of him, then pumps him hard. Grip soft, firm. She summons forth sounds from him she’s never heard part from his lips. Little growls, moans, tugs of breath. She pulls forward from him a current that’s wild and rapid and dangerous.</p><p>Sliding her thumb over his slit, he moans loudly, a thunderstorm trembling beneath his skin. His reactions turn her on, clit pulsing between her legs.</p><p>"And I sucked you off?" she says, face heating beneath the desert sun.</p><p>His lips part, head tilting backward. But he looks to her like she’s a magnet. "Yes," he says.</p><p>"I want to hear you say it."</p><p>His breath stutters, throat tightening. She can see the way the air in his lungs tugs at the skin of his chest. "You sucked me off. Suck me off."</p><p>Licking her lips, she looks up at his eyes, a wild, deep blue that makes her think of the safety of the sky. But even the sky can turn dark, shunning the night.</p><p>Shifting on the bed, she shuffles back and lowers her head to lick at his cock. It’s a wild, bold movement that has her shaking in uncertainty. His body tenses, every line of him sharp and pulled taught. Sucking on his shaft, she’s slow to take him into her mouth. He’s hot and warm against her tongue. His muscles tense beneath her hands and she presses her fingers tight into his hips as if she’s capable of shackling him.</p><p>And perhaps she is.</p><p>Sucking him hard, he moans beneath her, shifting hard, uncaring. She stops shaking. Murmurs her name, swears, grips his head for purchase. She sucks on the weight of him as hard as she can, wanting to tug his secrets, pull down his defences, feel the truth of his guilt.</p><p>Face feeling hot and body swarming with heat, she pulls back from him and lets his dick fall from her mouth. His skin’s as red as the blood pumping through his veins.</p><p>He stares up at her, lips parted, eyes wide. The way he looks at her is unlike any way a man’s ever looked at her before. Feeling a surge of confidence, it sharpens the blunt edges of her blade. She sits taller, juts her chest out, and feels sweat trickle behind her ear.</p><p>"Is that how you wanted to fuck me?"</p><p>He shakes his head. "No."</p><p>Licking her lips, she heaves in a breath. Hands disappearing behind her back, she unclasps her bra but holds it against her chest by tugging its teeth to her spine. "How else? Remember to tell the truth."</p><p>"I want to be inside of you."</p><p>Brows furrowing intentionally, she tugs at her bra to make a show of pulling it against her chest. "You were."</p><p>"Not your mouth," he says. As he tugs in a breath, she feels it move the bed beneath them. No, she won’t allow him to take control of her storm. Trying to pull it back beneath her spell, she relaxes her grip on her bra to let it drop, but doesn’t let it fall away from her nipples.</p><p>Transfixed by her like she’s a kindling flame, his gaze stays on the swells of her breasts. He wants her to burn him.</p><p>"Inside your cunt," he says. Blue eyes lift up to hers and a wave of embarrassment seems to flush across his skin. </p><p>Dropping her hands away from her bra, she lets it fall and tugs the straps down her arms. Ignoring the way her body scorches beneath his gaze, she doesn’t move her hair to cover her breasts or palm them to hide herself from his hungry eyes.</p><p>She sucks in a long, hard breath and arches her chest. He openly watches her, drinking her in.</p><p>Peering down at him, Elena arches her brow and says sharply, "You come when I say you can."</p><p>His brow arches as she falls back onto her ass. Sliding her panties down her legs, she drops them beside him and kneels before him naked. His gaze takes in the long line of her body and settles on the dark hair between her legs. She presses her thighs together without thinking.</p><p>Clearing her throat, she looks at how his black briefs frame his wet cock. "Take them off."</p><p>His hands remain still, his gaze open and wide and greedily taking in the sight of her. He fans the flames of her wildfire.</p><p>Keeping her hands on her thighs, she’s slow to slide them up to her hips and belly. Climbing the line of her torso, she palms her breasts. He misinterprets her as hiding herself, but she doesn’t care. She kneads her breasts. He stares at her and tugs at his briefs, pulls his legs up towards him and peels them off clumsily.</p><p>She lets herself gaze openly at him, taking in the paleness of his inner thighs, his balls and slick cock. His skin is pale white like he’s made of porcelain, but Elena knows he’s not delicate at all. He’s beautiful in a way that’s destructive. She wants to reach out and touch him despite knowing how much it’ll hurt.</p><p>Licking her lips, it’s with a thud of her heart that she lifts up onto her knees. Shuffling to straddle him, she grips his cock and pumps him hard. He shudders and moans, breath gusting out of him. Elena grips him and lowers down to brush her wet cunt against the head of his cock.</p><p>"<i>Fuck</i>." Damon leans his head back, chin tilted upward. His throat’s elongated tantalisingly and she thinks of wrapping her hands around him to feel the pounding of his pulse. </p><p>But she keeps a hand on his cock and the other on his hip as she slowly mounts him, his dick stretching her as he slides into her slick cut.</p><p>Letting out a shaky breath, she sits on him so their hips kiss. Then she moves, up the length of him slowly, experimenting in the way he fills her. Down again, this time sharply. His breath never seems to catch. Her chest heats as her knees dig into his bed, indenting his mattress with the memory of her.</p><p>Licking her lips, Elena leans forward, palming his chest. His skin sings to her, his breath catching in his throat. Damon peers at her through thick eyelashes, lips parted, eyes bright blue. She’s slow to fuck herself on his cock, moving her hips up and down, skin slapping. She wants to bruise his skin as deeply as he’s bruised hers.</p><p>Sliding her hands up his chest hard, she palms his neck. His pulse beats against her fingers, calling for her. "Elena," he murmurs and bucks his hips up into her. She moans, throat burning, and she presses her fingers into his neck like he’s made of clay. Feels her fingerprints kiss his skin, his pulse fighting her.</p><p>When his hands brush against her hips, she snatches her hands away from his neck and grips his wrists tightly. It’s a dangerous game to play, but he lets his bones go quiet and lifeless as she tugs his hands back and pins them above his head.</p><p>"Stay," she says sharply, breath hitching. Moving her hips up and down against his cock, she ensures to slap her hips harder against his. She’ll wear the bruises of her trials tomorrow.</p><p>Swallowing hard, he nods. "Yes," he says. He doesn’t blink as he peers up at her, blue eyes wide, filled with something that she doesn’t want to acknowledge. She treats him sharply, digs her hands into his neck and then shoulders, scrapes her nails against the soft skin of his warm chest, but he continues to peer up at her like she’s heaven.</p><p>Elena slams her hips hard against his, wanting him to close his eyes. He moans, chest heaving. Growls pull from his throat. His fingers curl into his palms at his head and she waits for him to break her shackles and take over. Damon can never stop himself. He takes what he wants, keeps taking from her. She pushes her hips into his, panting hard, her hair sticking to the heat of the back of her neck.</p><p>He looks up at her, fingers twitching, hips shifting beneath hers to try and push up and further into her, but he never proves her right. He stops himself. It’s too late.</p><p>Damon moans her name, chanting it like a prayer. Tries to burrow it beneath her skin, the vulnerability of the crack of his voice, the pure lust and want within the syllables of her names.</p><p>He’s too loud. It’s too much.</p><p>Blindly fishing for her panties, she balls them up as she rides his cock, hips moving hard, punishingly sharp. "Shut up," she says horsely. Heat coats her spine and chest as he tries to quieten. "Put this in your mouth."</p><p>He takes her panties from her and sniffs them, his attempt at regaining control. Damon peers up at her and smirks, arrogance peeping through his attempts to be vulnerable, to be soft and endearing. She fucks his hips hard, bruising her own. His mouth falls open and she helps him guide her panties between his lips.</p><p>His moans are sharp beneath his taut throat. She thinks he cries out her name.</p><p>His hips buck up into her and she cries out, shuddering on top of him. Withdrawing her hands, she doesn’t want to touch him anymore, doesn’t want him to keep leeching the warmth from her fingertips.</p><p>"You look so good with my panties in your mouth, <i>friend</i>," she hisses, pinching her nipple. Rocking against his hips, she pushes down against him, feels his dick sliding further inside of her. </p><p>She grinds down against him, panting hard. Her chest warms and she burns from the inside out as she watches him watch her.</p><p>His lips are parted and she thinks of kissing him with her panties in his mouth. Bowing down, she captures his bottom lip between her teeth sharply, digging them into his skin. Splitting it open, she tastes his blood—the only time she’s tasted his blood willingly—and bites down hard until she thinks it tears like paper. It heals before her as she pulls away, her lips stained with his blood.</p><p>Licking at her lips, she digs her hands into his hipbones and rocks against him. His bottom lip stains her red panties as it bleeds.</p><p>"I thought about this once," she says breathlessly. His face is boyish, hopeful. Elena feels it wind her up, solidify the iron of her spine. What she says is true. "You were beneath me, then on top of me. Your hands were on my breasts and pulling my hair. I called out your name once."</p><p>She shakes her head and makes a dismissive sound that’s half scoff and half moan. "It’s just a fantasy, you being kind. Genuine. Isn’t it?"</p><p>He swallows thickly and shakes his head. Breaking the invisible shackle, he pulls her panties out of his mouth and crushes them as his knuckles turn white. His hand returns to its place above his head. "No."</p><p>"I’ll never speak to you again," she says, grinding down against him with all of her weight.  He wraps the fabric of her panties around his hand in the manner he’s always wanted to consume her. His breath hitches as he keeps his hands above his head, fingers twitching and curling into his palms tightly. The scent of blood is rich in the air, even to her nose. He splits the skin of his palms like he’s made of delicate glass.</p><p>"Doesn’t that matter to you?"</p><p>"Yes," he says sharply. "It <i>matters.</i>"</p><p>"Then why don’t you care?" She arches her brow as she peers down at him, hand on her breast. Her heart pounds hard beneath her fingers, in her neck and clit. She wonders if he can hear it. Can he feel it? Tears prick her eyes angrily as her throat clenches. "Why don’t you care?"</p><p>"I care, Elena," he says, eyes wide. He rocks beneath her, pushes his hips up defiantly. She gasps and grinds down, her hand on his hip sharp. "I care about you so much."</p><p>Biting her bottom lip, she shakes her head. "No," she says, closing her eyes. "You don’t. Not really."</p><p>He doesn’t answer. Damon never fucking answers when it matters.</p><p>"I thought I’d do something for you as your friend." Bowing forward, she digs her nails into his collarbone. His skin vibrates with his hum. Eyes closed, he moans, and she bites down at his bottom lip, never allowing herself to kiss him.</p><p>Dragging her nails down his chest slowly, she tries to sink them into his skin like he’s made of sand. It’s hard to break the calloused chest of him, but she manages to after she drags her nails over his nipples and elicits a sound that makes her press down hard against his cock.</p><p>Breath gusting out of him, she digs her nails into his belly to try and tear him open. Surely something good has to be tucked deep inside of him, layered and hidden away. But as she digs and tears at him, it doesn’t surface. </p><p>Planting her hands firmly against his chest, she bows her head, hides her face behind the blanket of her hair, and rocks against his cock with desperation. Murmuring his name, she gasps. Rubbing her clit against him, she thinks, for a moment, about pressing her mouth to his and telling him to come, to be with her in the way she’s never shared herself with him before. But Elena’s tired of being his scapegoat, tucking him into the softer and more forgiving crevices of herself. She slides her hand against her clit and jolts against him, eliciting sounds from him like he’s a violin.</p><p>Hands moving of their own accord, she decides to give him this. Give herself this one last time of giving him a chance. She pours her grief for their friendship into herself as she lifts her hips up sharply and lets him buck up and fuck into her.</p><p>He moans, cursing, but she blocks him out by keeping her face hidden away. That isn’t a gift she’ll give him. Hiding away within the shadow of her hair, she gasps, moaning, dropping the sharpness of her anger as she lets herself take him as he’s taken from her over and over and over.</p><p>She comes hard around his cock, head titled back, hand against her clit and the other digging into the bone of his hip. An animalistic growl tears its way through her throat that sounds like his name, splintered.</p><p>He whines when she pulls away and off of him, the warmth and fullness of his cock leaving her. She sits on him, sliding her cunt against his dick. Elena rocks hard against him, hands on his hips as she moans.</p><p>Riding him, she keeps her hands on his belly, presses down against him. He moans, eyes wide, turning black as he stares up at her. She stretches out her stomach, arches her back and chest out, lets him enjoy the sight of her breast as she moves back and forth along the length of his slick cock. Lets the warmth his gaze elicits coil in her belly as she grinds down against him but never takes him back inside of her to possess. </p><p>Damon’s hers to have. She isn’t his to take, not anymore.</p><p>Fangs protruding against his lips, the veins appear beneath his eyes. Not once does Elena think he’ll strike up like a snake and bite her. He remains with his hands above his head as he pants, cock twitching against her as she pumps him with her cunt.</p><p>He comes against his belly. She removes her hands from him, pinches his hips, and stops rocking against his hips when his chest expands and the tightness in his bones seems to unwrap itself from around him. He pants hard, unable to catch his breath. She doesn’t try to help him.</p><p>He looks up at her, eyes turning blue. His hair sticks to his face. Despite the urge to brush it away, she keeps her hands to herself. </p><p>She pulls away from him and falls on her ass by his ankles, wrapping her arms around her breasts.</p><p>"Elena…" He pushes himself up against the bed, panties still wrapped up in his fist. "Elena, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?" His breath’s hot and heavy, chest still heaving. All the grief pours out of him the vulnerabilities he keeps hardened beneath callouses. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t <i>thinking.</i> I want you, okay? I want you in my life. I want you."</p><p>Throat tight, she tries to keep her emotions at bay. The tears threaten to cast her overboard. "No," she says tightly, head twisted away from him and gaze on his floor. She refuses to look at him. The strength she’d had to keep herself in control, to take from him in the same brutal way he’d taken from her… she feels like a piece of debris, broken apart and lost at sea. Forgotten.</p><p>"No," she says, face pinching. Her hands fall away from her breasts, fists feeling like heavy weights. "You’re not sorry, Damon. You’re never sorry."</p><p>He looks up at her forlornly. Guilt curdles in her chest, warms her skin uncomfortably. She feels like he’s tied her to the stake and set her alight, but she refuses to let herself burn. Brushing her hair behind her ears with both hands, she notes how his gaze takes in her bare breasts like he’s unable to help himself.</p><p>Wrapping herself up once more to tuck herself away from his gaze, she shakes her head and feels grief welcome her once again like an old friend. A better one than him.</p><p>"We’re not friends." Tears prick her eyes as her throat stings. </p><p>Snatching her panties from his hand, she pushes off the bed and slides them up her hips. Pulling her bra back in place hurriedly, she stands before him as bare as she possibly can. She’s come to him vulnerable, skin soft and easily torn, and he’s dug his fingers into her with bruising force, set to destroy her.</p><p>She drops her gaze and takes in his body. Skin flawless and unbroken. He never wears the scars that he gifts to others. The only evidence of her is his slick cock and the come on his belly.</p><p>"We’re not friends," she says quietly. Her gaze lingers on his cock, the memory of the weight of it pressing against her tongue. He’d been comfortable inside of her. It’s a thought that she wants to hold onto but ultimately sets free. "Not anymore."</p><p>Turning her back on him, she lets him watch her slip back into the clothes she’s shed. Her armour feels sharper, thicker than it had when she’d stepped inside of his room. She can feel the slickness of her cunt and her grief burn in her belly.</p><p>He’s just another person she has to say goodbye to. </p><p>Damon doesn’t pull himself free from the clutches of his sheets and self-hatred. She doesn’t expect him to. That strength was never there beneath his sharp bones and firm muscles, and his desperate desire to be loved despite settling on believing he’s not worth it.</p><p>She doesn’t look back at him as she steps into her converse and picks up her jacket, folding it over her arms. If she looks back, it means she’s weak, a chink in her armour being exposed. But she’s like Achilles where her heel is made of iron and steel; Elena’s softness is in her neck, right at her pulse point where his fingers had gripped and broken Jeremy’s neck.</p><p>Leaving his room with a ragged sigh, it’s not until she reaches her car that she sits in the driver’s seat and cries. Forever is a long time, but perhaps she’s selfish for being grateful that she’s human. She can cheat forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can find me at <a href="https://finnicks.tumblr.com">tumblr.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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